<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 玉華宮>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1952>
<BookName: TUFU China's Greatest Poet>
<Translator: William Hung>
<TranslatedTitle: JADE FLOWER PALACE>
<BookPage: 114>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
溪回松風長，
蒼鼠竄古瓦。
不知何王殿，
遺構絕壁下。
陰房鬼火青，
壞道哀湍瀉。
萬籟真笙竽，
秋色正蕭灑。
美人爲黃土，
況乃粉黛假。
當時侍金輿，
故物獨石馬。
憂來藉草坐，
浩歌淚盈把。
冉冉征途間，
誰是長年者。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
On the bank of the winding gully where the wind of the pines is echoed
long, I find gray rats scurrying among heaps of broken tiles. There is no
sign to tell which prince's palace it was That now stands in ruins under
the sharp preceipice. In the damp, dark rooms, blue ghosts fires flicker.
Outside, by the abandoned road, a melancholy stream pours downhill.

From the millions of leaves real music rises; And the colors of autumn
are just turning dreary. Even bearutiful women are now brown dirt
under those mounds-Withal, much of their beauty was but powder
are rouge. Of the entourage of the princely chariot then, The only
reminder now is that sculptured stone horse. When unhappiness surges
within me, I sit on a grassy spot, I sing, I sob, I wipe my tears with my
hands. On the never-ending road of restless humanity, What matters 
who has how long to live?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
On the bank of the winding gully where the wind of the pines is echoed long, 
I find gray rats scurrying among heaps of broken tiles. 
There is no sign to tell which prince's palace it was 
That now stands in ruins under the sharp preceipice. 
In the damp, dark rooms, blue ghosts fires flicker.
Outside, by the abandoned road, a melancholy stream pours downhill.

From the millions of leaves real music rises; 
And the colors of autumn are just turning dreary. 
Even bearutiful women are now brown dirt under those mounds-
Withal, much of their beauty was but powder are rouge. 
Of the entourage of the princely chariot then, 
The only reminder now is that sculptured stone horse. 
When unhappiness surges within me, I sit on a grassy spot, 
I sing, I sob, I wipe my tears with my hands. 
On the never-ending road of restless humanity, 
What matters who has how long to live?
<End Formatted Translation>